


Catch a Falling Star

by DarkeAngelus



Category: All New X-Factor, Excalibur (Comic), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, X-Factor (Comics), X-Force (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alien Planet, Angst, Blood and Violence, Canon Gay Relationship, Character Death, Depression, Explicit Language, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship/Love, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship, Non-Canon Relationship, Self-Destruction, Self-Sacrifice, Sexual Content, Strained Relationships, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:54:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27764074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkeAngelus/pseuds/DarkeAngelus
Summary: When X-Factor travelled to Mojoworld, they found Shatterstar performing for Mojo and reveling in Primetime combat that shot him to the top of the Mojoverse Livestreams. It was clear that something was seriously wrong.Their investigation eventually pulls in Rictor, Dazzler and Longshot who join forces to launch a last-ditch effort to save ‘Star’s life and sanity and bring him home before it’s too late.**Chapter Three: "Stress Fracture" has just been posted**
Relationships: Julio Richter & Shatterstar, Julio Richter/Original Male Character, Julio Richter/Shatterstar
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was written immediately after X-Factor #03 and before X of Swords.

_It’s changed. It’s all changed and not for the better._

That was Rictor’s first thought when he stepped onto the floor of the immense combat arena under the critical eye of a hundred thousand spectators.

He had been on Mojoworld before, but it had never looked like... _this_. Mephisto, by accident or design, had blasted him back in time and he had been forced to battle here as a gladiator for four months. Things had been much simpler then; the open concept arena had been designed to reflect more traditional Roman architecture. The floor had been full of dirt and the unsophisticated bowl had no ceiling, making the diseased sky the alien backdrop to an already insane combat scenario.

The world’s ruler, Mojo, studied earth very closely and copied what he thought would make for good entertainment, often warping his broadcasts into depraved reproductions of popular earth themes. It was plainly obvious he had gone through his “Gladiator” phase and was now obsessed with “Westworld”. Everything was now so sleek and shiny that it made Ric’s eyes water and his head ache.

He and the rest of his team were on the ground level of a gigantic arena that had walls so high he almost had to look straight up. There was a scrap of sky blotted out by blimp-like airships projecting commercials and newsfeeds. Spotlights spun around at a breakneck pace, often highlighting the dominate logo that was erected everywhere in this insane place: They were huge black, six-pointed stars crisscrossed with double-lines.

Without even needing to be told, Rictor knew who that new emblem represented. Monitors and holograms were displaying its owner’s face and depicting past victories and dramatic still shots everywhere. He was the top streaming sensation of the Mojoverse and revered by _trillions_.

He was, of course, Shatterstar.

He looked vicious and handsome at the same time, but different. Oh, he looked so different. Ric could hardly believe that someone could change so much in just six short weeks. One by one the displays changed over to a live feed to show him staring down at Ric and the intruders, and it was clear he was angry by the interruption.

They were in his Top Stream Combat Ring Studio-Home, a place of constant live-streaming battles. Lower tiers displayed the skirmishes of challengers as fighting pods tried to rise in popularity in the feeds. The most successful challengers would ultimately make it to the top tier where ‘Star would battle them in primetime bouts specifically catered to the demands of his viewers. He hasn’t lost a single fight yet.

Rictor resolved that it was going to come to an end today, one way or another.

He and his group had gained a considerable amount of attention by their unsanctioned appearance. The oppressive crowd was muted in conversation, watching them intently. Screens were filled with scrolling comments, emojis and never-ending polls.

Shatterstar, dressed in a parody of a WWE-styled costume that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, stepped onto a floating ramp that lowered him from his dominate combat bowl so that he could evaluate the newcomers. He was surrounded by hundreds of circular black drones that represented his premium access subscribers.

He jumped off the ramp, swords in hand, but made no move towards them. Someone jostled Ric from behind and he reluctantly cleared the distance.

‘Star’s hair had been restored to the length he'd had back when they were teenagers in X-Force ( _And why wouldn’t it be?_ Ric thought fondly. _He always looked magnificent with his long hair flowing behind him like a banner_ ). His physique had also changed. He had bulked up on muscle thanks to Mojoverse supplements, but he looked unwell. Too pale. There were bruised circles around his eyes indicating his sheer exhaustion. Mojo had been putting him through sustained torture ever since he’d managed to blind-side the ruler by orchestrating the scheme to have Wind Dancer’s body go back to Krakoa.

There was no hint of recognition when he glowered down at Julio. “Who are you to dare pre-empt my broadcast?” he rumbled, his voice reverberating around the immense arena like thunder.

Ric saw that the pupils of both eyes were blown wide open, showing only his reflection in the black depths. “ _Oh Gav, what have they done to you?”_ he said in Spanish. 

‘Star drew back in surprise and his pupils retracted a little. He was seeing Rictor for the first time. He managed to get out “Hi” in Krakoan before his eyes dilated again.

Seconds after that, he attacked.

The crowd burst into deafening approval.

Rictor now had to fight for his life, but there was even more than that at stake here. As he and the crazed Mojoworlder traded blows and barbs, it was a battle to reclaim Shatterstar’s sanity.

When it seemed that all hope was lost, he couldn’t help but feel overwhelming guilt and remorse for the sorry state ‘Star was in. He wished he could go back to that day when everything had changed. The day almost two months back when ‘Star had said ... _had said ..._


	2. Beginning of the End

_Six weeks previous…_

“Your nightclub was firebombed.”

Rictor, with his cell phone stuck to his left ear, eyed his partner with contempt. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Shatterstar frowned at him. “I’m only trying to help.”

They were standing in the soaked and charred ruin of what had once been the lobby of Ric’s nightclub, The Shakedown. All three levels were gutted and cordoned off with caution tape and this was as far as the pair had been permitted to go. Several police cruisers were parked at the curb with a few officers talking to the fire crew who were packing up their gear. Ric and ‘Star were waiting for the Fire Marshall to show up on the scene. It was probably going to be a while. Ever since Xavier had made his announcement about Krakoa, acts of vandalism against mutants skyrocketed over night.

Pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off a tension headache, Ric said, “I know, babe. I’m sorry. This is all just really messed up. And listening to this rendition of ‘Smoke on the Water’ by clarinet isn’t helping my head any.”

“You have been on hold for a very long time.”

Biting back another scathing retort about the obvious, Ric walked a short distance away. He was operating on one last, frayed nerve and talking his anger out on his boyfriend wouldn’t accomplish anything. Right now, he needed ‘Star more than ever.

The terrible, ear-bleeding music ended and a voice finally came on the line. _“Mr. Murrieta? Are you still there?”_

Joaquin Murrieta was the name on Ric’s immigration papers, Social Security, driver’s license and passport, all flawlessly created by Xavier’s School. Like most mutants, he lived by an alias because his real name was still flagged by several government databases. “I’m here.”

_“Thank you. I’ve spoken with my supervisor and I’m sorry to have to tell you that your claim is being denied.”_

“The fuck?!”

The insurance agent’s voice dropped a note. _“Please watch your language, sir.”_

“Sorry, sorry. Look... Listen, I’m up to date on all my payments. I made damn sure to get fire coverage and, besides, nightclubs have to pay extra for vandalism and-” 

_“Mr. Murrieta.”_

“Some asshole burned down my club!” Ric shouted into the phone. “The cops haven’t even started an investigation yet and you’re denying my claim? You can’t do that!” 

_“Mr. Murrieta, I’m sorry but the decision has been made and-”_

The phone was suddenly plucked out of his hand and Shatterstar brought it to his ear. “Good morning, my name is Ben Gaveedra. I’m Mr. Murrieta's legal counsel. With whom am I speaking?”

There was a measured pause on the other end until the agent said in a guarded tone, _“Penny.”_

“Penny, please put your supervisor on the line.”

_“Sir... Mr. Gaveedra, I already-”_

“I am not arguing with the likes of _you_. I wish to speak to your supervisor.” He lowered his voice until it was a bass rumble. _“Now.”_

“’Star, what the hell are you doing?” Ric hissed at him.

The Mojoworlder didn’t have the chance to respond. There was a new voice in his ear. He wandered a short distance away and Rictor listened to his half of the conversation. The usual harsh rasp of his alien accent immediately adopted a less abrasive cadence, the result of him exclusively speaking Spanish whenever he was alone with Rictor. It was a miraculous transformation and Ric regarded him as if he was a magician performing an incredible magic trick.

“Hello, Mr. Barnes. Yes, I’m well aware of what was just told second-hand to my client. I’m giving you the opportunity to clarify what must have been a mistake in your exchange with Miss Penny. Do not argue with me. As you well know, according to Statute B, Article Five, Subsection Three of the Insurance Lenders code; _‘the issuing agent must have first reviewed the findings of any investigation before judgment as to approval or rejection can be made on the claim in question’_. Your outright rejection is in clear breech. I am giving you the opportunity to correct your presumptive declaration.”

There was a beat of silence and ‘Star said, “Your agent had no right to ask if my client is a mutant, Mr. Barnes. I would advise you to tread very carefully. The landmark case of Worthington v. Trask made it clear that the court does not view such discrimination favorably.

“That’s much better. While I’m not inclined to pursue damages for that particular lapse, my final determination will be made on how fast you seek to placate my client. He is extremely upset and the lack of empathy your staff has displayed in this crisis does not reflect well on either you or your business. Here he is.”

Without warning, Shatterstar handed the phone back to Rictor. The Mexican almost fumbled it in his shock and put it to his ear. “...Hello?” 

_“Mr. Murrieta, my name is Jason Barnes. I want to apologize for any confusion you experienced in your earlier conversation.”_

“You do?” Ric asked numbly.

_“There was a... an error in our data. Your coverage is completely up-to-date. Thank you. I will liaison with the Fire Marshall’s office directly to expedite your claim. I really don’t think there will be any issues and will call you when we receive the report. Is there anything else that I can do for you, sir?”_

“Uhm, no. No, I-I don’t, uh, think so. Thanks.”

 _“Thank_ you _on behalf of Ellison Insurance.”_

The call ended and Ric almost dropped the phone again. He was looking at Shatterstar as if it was the first time he’d seen him. “What. The. _Fekt?”_

A ghost of a smile crossed the Mojoworlder’s handsome features. “How do you think I managed to purchase Manor Crossing at half price?”

“You’re a lawyer?!”

He appeared to seriously consider the question. “I read virtually every legal text I could find before becoming a landlord. I’m sure I could pass a bar exam.” He shrugged.

Ric laughed. Despite the grim surroundings he just couldn’t help it. He went over and gave the big warrior a grateful hug. “I think you probably got Penny fired.”

‘Star offered him another of his dismissive shrugs. “She was very rude.”

“Yeah,” Rictor said, looking around. “Good thing you were on the ball. You would’ve been on the hook for all this shit if the insurance didn’t cover.” ‘Star had been Julio’s co-signer on the mortgage. “Mierda, what a mess.”

“It’s a solid arson case,” ‘Star mused. “One of the nightclub security cameras in the loading bay caught the license plate of the vehicle. There were even a few images of the person who threw the Molotov cocktail through the storage window. I can smell the gasoline that was used as an accelerant.”

It was at times like these when their training with Jamie Madrox at X-Factor Investigations came through. Then again, ‘Star had watched virtually every episode of Law and Order and had them committed to memory. Ric was nodding along with what he was saying, barely hearing him until the warrior remarked, “It’s your call.”

Breaking out of his fugue, Ric looked up at him. “Huh? What is?”

“We have the license plate number. You could hack the DMV and we could run our own trace and pay the person responsible a visit rather than leave the matter to the authorities.”

It was tempting. It really was. “If we go that route and you can kiss the insurance settlement good-bye.”

“Fekt the insurance,” ‘Star snarled and it was the first time since they had set foot on the premises that the façade dropped and Ric saw that the warrior was absolutely furious. When he grabbed the bigger man’s arm he could feel the muscles beneath his shirt were hard as a rock and quivering.

Dropping his voice, the Mexican said, “We have to let the cops handle this one, okay? That’s the price to pay for running a legitimate business.”

‘Star looked up at the smoldering ceiling and said in a voice that just about tore Ric’s heart, “That cost is too _high_ , Julio.”

“I know, man. I really loved this place.”

“Will you rebuild?”

Ric had been seriously thinking it over ever since he got the call from the police at five o’clock this morning. Buying the club had been a stupid, knee-jerk reaction to Shatterstar’s purchase of Manor Crossing. He’d figured, if the alien could make the entrepreneurial leap to become a real estate mogul, he should at least try to make a similar attempt. He quickly discovered that partying in a nightclub and actually owning one were two completely different things. He didn’t know how to run a business and it showed. He’d go to the grave before admitting it to ‘Star, but The Shakedown had been seriously dipping down into the red before the arsonist had come along and actually done him a favor.

And for that reason, to Shatterstar’s question he said, “No.”

“Julio-”

“What’s the point? I don’t know if this happened because I’m gay, Mexican or because I’m a mutant. Doesn’t really matter. I’ve got a target on my back any way you look at it and there’s nothing I can do to scrape it off.” He kicked at the rungs of a burnt chair and put his hands in his pocket. “Whole thing was a stupid idea. Back to Square One. Story of my life.”

Shatterstar heard that self-deprecating note to his voice and looked at him with growing concern. Julio was always walking along the precipice of depression and it didn’t take much to knock him off the edge. After all their time together ‘Star was becoming painfully acute to recognizing the signs of an approaching relapse, and every time they happened he faired almost as poorly as Rictor.

The Fire Marshall arrived along with a detective assigned to the case. ‘Star stood back and let Ric talk to them, carefully playing his role as support and observer. It wasn’t easy to watch his partner hand over the flash drive that contained the security video of the subject destroying The Shakedown. Now that the evidence had changed hands, the prospect for vengeance was no longer an option.

That rankled with ‘Star. He was so angry he wanted to kill the person responsible for this cowardly, needless act. Before the execution, however, he wanted to ask first: _Why? Why did you do this?_

He had a feeling he wouldn’t be satisfied by the answer. He lived among humans, he even managed to act the part, but he would never be able to comprehend their petty thoughts or motivations. Humans were a strange, dangerous breed.

Not for the first time, he wondered why he bothered staying on this world when there were so many others out there. Then he looked over to Rictor and was brought back to reality.

 _That’s why,_ he thought fondly.

Ric trailed after the Fire Marshall as they reviewed the extent of the damage. The detective walked over to ‘Star to validate Rictor’s alibi. _Yes, Mr. Murrieta had been with him for the entire evening. No, he did not leave the premises at any point. Yes, there were several witnesses who could collaborate that statement._ It was at this point that ‘Star handed him a business card. It had his business name (Cadre Apartments Ltd.), the Manor Crossing address, several telephone numbers, and his name. He had wanted to add ‘Esquire’ after it and Rictor had laughed, told him that was the epitome of gayness, and talked him out of it.

The detective eyed the professional card and cast ‘Star a trained inquisitive look, taking in his height, build and lingering on the six-pointed star around his left eye. “Interesting tattoo.”

“It’s a birthmark, actually. Common misconception.”

“You look very familiar.”

“I get that a lot.”

Something was pinging the cop’s highly trained instincts as he continued his inspection, but he was well trained not to voice his suspicions. ‘Star wondered what he was thinking, but was playing his own game of polite indifference. Eventually, they ran out of awkward small talk and the detective returned to his car where his partner was waiting for him. From his place inside of the building, ‘Star easily heard their exchange.

“You and the big guy were talking awhile,” the female detective commented. “Anything noteworthy?”

“Naw. Alibi checks out. He was with the nightclub’s owner the entire night.”

“They a couple?”

“Yeah, I think so. Neither of them exactly give off a gay vibe, but there’s something odd about the redhead. Can’t quite put my finger on it.”

The female sipped her coffee and said in a lower voice, “The owner’s a mutant.”

Her partner glanced at her and then shot a look in Shatterstar’s direction. By now, ‘Star was seemingly engrossed in looking at the burnt photos on the wall. “Really? Jesus. He’s got to be one, too.”

There was a moment of pensive silence before the woman wondered aloud, “I wonder what he can do?”

“Doesn’t take a genius to see that he’s built like The Rock. I don’t think I wanna know.”

“Fair enough. It’s pretty clear this attack was hate crime, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yeah, that’s how I’m gonna log it in my report. I’ve already got seventeen just like it on my desk and it’s only been two days since that Xavier-guy gave the world the riot act.” He inclined he head in ‘Star’s direction. “If I were him, I’d hire some security for his properties. He’ll probably be targeted next.”

‘Star snapped his head around in surprise and for a brief instant locked eyes with the detective. He heard the man mutter, “Holy shit, I think he heard me. How the hell-?” before pulling out his cell phone and hitting “9” on the speed dial.

The phone rang at least six times and then went to voicemail. _“Bite my fleas. Bugger off.”_

“Pick up the fekting phone, Karl,” ‘Star snapped. “I know you’re in your apartment. Pick it up right now!”

There was a fumbling on the other end before a rough voice came on the line and retorted, _“Ya know these damned things aren’t designed fer paws, don’cha?”_

“Are you keeping watch like I asked?”

_“Well, y’know... about that. You never really said if ya’d give me a break on the rent like I asked so, no. I haven’t. Not until we-”_

“Wretched cur! Rictor’s nightclub was attacked. Manor Crossing might be next. Take a look at the monitors! Do you see anything?”

There was a long, dramatic sigh on the other end before that nasal, snorting voice came back. _“Okay, okay. Hold j’er wad. Christ awmighty, yer bitchy this mornin’. Lessee what we got here. All the cameras check out. Nothin’ suspicious. Hold on... I got somebody tryin’ to climb the back fence.”_

‘Star’s hand tightened around the phone until he heard the flimsy plastic cracking. “You’d better not be joking, Karl. I’m in a very bad mood.”

 _“Yeah, no shit. I noticed. Seriously, though, there’s someone in the backyard.”_ There was an edge of rising panic in his voice. _“What do I do?”_

“Wait.” ‘Star said and pocketed the phone. He burst out of the nightclub and extended the twin-blades of the silver gauntlets around each forearm: _SHAK!_ He crossed them to summon an X portal and ran through it. 

Watching the teleportational gateway dissipate a few feet shy of their patrol car, the female detective gaped at the scene and dropped her coffee.

“Now you know,” her male partner said, straight-faced.

When he couldn’t carry his swords in public, ‘Star often fell back to the gauntlets he’d worn in X-Factor. They were covert but unwieldy and he used them primarily for teleportation. His skill with that power had become refined over the last two years and he no longer needed an anchor if he was jaunting to a location where he had been before. Manor Crossing was ground zero and he easily landed in the backyard barely ten seconds after hanging up on Karl.

“What do you want?” He blasted at the figure crouched in the corner of the yard beside one of the sheds that held the building’s winter gear. “My temper is short, so do not test me.”

“Codlista, sifeoh,” a voice said, sounding pained but still in good spirits. The blond figure raised his head and smiled weakly at him. “It is good to see you, too.”

‘Star immediately retracted the blades and rushed forward to help.

Less than a half hour later, Longshot was seated in the recliner in ‘Star and Ric’s apartment, gratefully accepting a cup of coffee. He had been in Canada when Xavier alerted the world about Krakoa and, while he could normally pass for human if no one looked at him too closely, was suddenly singled out wherever he went by hyper vigilant humans.

“These don’t normally attract attention,” he said, holding up one of the hands that ‘Star had bandaged. He had the common Mojoworld digits of three fingers and thumb and ran a hand through his hair that had grown out since his caper of saving the universe. It had an odd, artificial consistency.

“Even if they did, your luck power should have countered it,” Shatterstar said, sitting on the sofa and eying him warily. He wasn’t overjoyed to see the other alien, but he wasn’t disapproving, either. Thanks to Mephisto and Arize, they were now tied together by a paradoxical loop; each one responsible for the other’s existence. Although they had settled on the earth norm father-son distinction, the truth was much more complicated and, because of that, they rarely associated. This was their first interaction since X-Factor disbanded.

As if his battered appearance wasn’t enough proof, his explanation made sense. “My luck power isn’t working the way it’s supposed to anymore.”

‘Star mused it over, glancing at cracks in the walls that hadn’t been there last month. Personally, he had noticed that his own abilities were changing. His recent trials on Horus IV were a perfect example of the extent. He had managed a teleport from a planet millions of light-years away without an anchor. Ric had saved him when he got stuck in the void between worlds, but he should have died outright.

Longshot noticed the hesitation in the other man’s demeanor. “What are you thinking?”

“Rictor has been suffering lapses in control lately. My powers have become stronger. I’m wondering if Krakoa’s presence is doing something to the mutant paradigm.”

“I’m not a mutant.” Arize had cloned him from Shatterstar’s DNA, but his expertise in science and magic had transformed Longshot into something entirely different. The Spineless One had said that he was created to be a superior specimen, but ‘Star often had his doubts about that.

“Exactly my point. The mutants of earth are beginning to congregate to one fixed point. That’s a great deal of power confined to a relatively small area and it’s growing stronger by the day. It could be throwing off other forces.”

“It didn’t happen when they created Utopia.”

“Utopia was composed of the few mutants left after M-Day. Krakoa is housing _thousands_ , if not more. All those Alpha and Omegas in one small place?” He shook his head.

“There was a Krakoan gate in Toronto. I tried to go through.” He held up his hands. Beneath the bandages, both were badly burnt. “It expunged me.”

‘Star grumbled in displeasure. Longshot had the distinction of being an X-Man, a group that had once held a certain elevated status in Shatterstar’s mind, though that view had become somewhat diminished over the years. “It has to be some sort of oversight. The gates are new and probably haven’t been programmed to accept non-mutants yet.”

“Or maybe that’s exactly how they want it,” Longshot said gravely. “You were not on earth when Genosha was thriving. Or when it was destroyed. 16 million mutants were slaughtered. It would make sense that they are trying to create their own independent colony again.”

“It rarely bodes well.” Both of them had been with the rebel forces on Mojoworld; a battle for slave independence that raged on for over a hundred years. “Rictor’s club was burned down by some hateful human. We were there investigating the damage when a tenant alerted me that there was an intruder at Manor Crossing.”

“Sorry for the abrupt appearance. I was able to cross the border easily enough and I went to Xavier’s Institute first, but it’s empty. This was the only other place I could think of going. I know that things between us are difficult...”

Shatterstar waved away the words that would only steer them into an awkward conversation. “I have an empty apartment that’s fully furnished. You can stay there until we clear the confusion about Krakoa.” He had never emptied Tina Cooke’s apartment out of shame for not saving her life. That it would go to someone as altruistic as Longshot would have pleased her.

The worry lines around Longshot’s eyes eased with this good news. He appeared to finally start relaxing. “Thank you-”

“Don’t say it.”

_“Son.”_

“Vehjka.” ‘Star rolled his eyes. He was about to admonish the other man when his cell phone rang. It was Rictor.

_“Hey, what’s going on? Why’d you bail?”_

“Longshot showed up at Manor Crossing. He’s injured.”

_“Humans?”_

“...Not completely. It’s complicated. He’ll be staying in Tina’s unit until we work things out with Krakoa. Are you finished with the authorities?”

 _“Yeah, it’s outta my hands now.”_ He sounded unhappy. ‘Star wondered if he was regretting his earlier decision not to take up the Mojoworlder’s suggestion and handle the situation on their own. Trusting humans was riskier now more than ever.

“Do you want me to pick you up?” He could easily do short back-to-back transports without a rest in between.

_“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’m just gonna go home. Y’know, back to my apartment and try and process everything that’s happened.”_

“Julio, you shouldn’t be alone. You’ve just had a very stressful morning.”

 _“No shit!”_ Ric blasted into his ear, making him wince. _“Sorry. I’m sorry. Look, I’m in a really pissy mood right now. You don’t need the grief. I’ll talk to you later.”_ He hung up before ‘Star could respond.

He cast the screen a resentful glance before tucking it back into his pocket.

Longshot cleared his throat and then asked carefully, “How are things between you two?”

“They’ve been better. We _‘went on a break’_ after New Tian and dated on and off ever since. Things were finally starting to stabilize until Xavier’s announcement two days ago.”

“Rictor doesn’t live here?” He knew from personal experience that ‘Star favored a particularly barren sense of style and it was clear that someone with a flair for decorating had spruced the place up and made it cheerful and accommodating. There was a colorful throw on the backrest of the sofa that was a replica of the Mexican flag, several framed photos hung on the wall displaying some rather exotic destinations, Spanish bric-a-brac was scattered about, and the aroma from the kitchen still lingered with the unmistakable scent of tamales from the night before.

“He _did_ when I first bought the building. We had a fight and he moved out. He signed the paperwork to an apartment without reading it and got locked into a six-month lease. It was an impulsive act. His money was tied into The Shakedown and he couldn’t afford to break the contract, so he’s been dividing his time between residences. Mostly, he stays here.”

Longshot didn’t immediately respond, staring at his counterpart with a thoughtful, contemplative expression on his face.

“What?” ‘Star asked, immediately on the defensive.

“That’s the longest you’ve ever spoken to me. Before now, I’ve never realized how ingrained into this culture you’ve become. It’s nice to see.”

The redhead just glowered at him. “Sentimental old fool.”

“Actually, you’re older than I am.”

“Za’s vid. Don’t remind me,” ‘Star said, but there was no heat to his voice and the corner of his mouth was twisted up into a small smile. “Let’s get you situated to your new quarters, but not before you pay me a damage deposit and the first month's rent. Do you have $2500 on you?”

Longshot cast him a startled look and was met by a wider grin. “Vehjka,” he said, slapping ‘Star’s shoulder and laughing.

When midnight came and went, ‘Star went to the roof of his building and ‘ported across the river to land on the roof of Rictor’s. He let himself in through the roof access and went down the stairs to the Mexican’s ground floor apartment, knocking lightly on the door. When there was no answer, he used his copy of the unit’s key and let himself inside.

The television was on and that was all. ‘Star had excellent night vision and didn’t need to turn on any lights to survey the apartment. He saw all that he needed to in the kitchen. Almost a dozen empty beer bottles were scattered on the counters. “Fekt,” he grumbled.

He found his boyfriend in the bedroom, sleeping on the floor next to the bed. He had all his clothes on and was curled into a miserable ball around a plant pot full of dirt.

Shatterstar picked him up and that was when Ric began thrashing.

“Julio, stop! It’s just me.”

“I gotta be on the floor! Gotta hear the earth. Lemme down!” he howled.

‘Star grunted as a defensive seismic wave hit him, almost making him lose his grip. The furniture in the bedroom began shaking. He quickly set him back down on the floor and the Mexican went still again, muttering under his breath. The shockwaves eased and disappeared.

Pulling the blankets and pillows off the bed, ‘Star covered his partner and made sure he was more comfortable. Ric couldn’t even tolerate a pillow beneath his head and drunkenly pawed it to the side so he could rest his ear to the floorboards. He was reaching out for something and, when ‘Star nudged the pot of earth near him with his foot, he grasped it and pulled it close to his chest.

‘Star sat on the side of the bed and looked down at him sadly, at a loss. This pattern of behaviour was becoming more and more common, but there was no doubt that what had happened at the Shakedown was the reason things were so bad tonight. This odd sleeping on the floor obsession was a new, troubling development.

Rictor went back to sleeping soundly and ‘Star used the time to clean the apartment. The Mexican was an incredible cook, but he severely lapsed when it came to chores. By the time Ric began to come around early in the morning, the dishes were done, the beer bottles rinsed and put out with the recycling, everything was dusted and cleaned and there were enough clothes collected in a basket for a load of laundry.

Rolling over on his back, Ric blearily wiped his face and then blinked up at the ceiling, taking in his surroundings from this new perspective. He looked over to where ‘Star had returned to his position of playing sentinel on the bed. “Lemme guess. Rough night?”

“Actually, you slept quite soundly.”

“And you?”

“I can do that later.”

“Dios. I don’t need a babysitter,” Ric said, getting slowly to his feet. He wobbled into the bathroom and was almost blinded when he turned on the light (‘Star was very thorough when he cleaned). When he finally emerged, he could smell coffee and sat at the breakfast bar, accepting the mug that was slid over to him. ‘Star didn’t drink the beverage, but he knew how to make it the way Ric liked: Strong and black with two sugars.

“I’ll treat you to breakfast later,” Ric said, trying to break some of the tension in their mutual silence.

“I would not turn down an egg.” ‘Star wasn’t a big eater.

“And, y’know, thanks for comin’ over.” Most of that was deliberately lost inside the mug.

‘Star nodded absently as he wiped down an already-spotless counter.

After a few minutes of them trading veiled glances, Ric slapped a hand down on the table. The glasses in the cabinet rattled ominously. “Out with it.”

“I think you should go to Krakoa,” ‘Star said. “Today, if possible.”

Ric blinked in surprise. He’d been expecting just about anything but that. “Why the hell would I want to go there?”

“We both know why. Last night when I tried to lift you into bed, you became violent, insisting that you had to stay on the floor. To listen to the _earth_ , you said.”

“Did I blast you?”

“You didn’t hurt me. Yet.” He watched Ric drop his eyes to the counter, growing visibly upset. “You need help that I can’t give you. Longshot said that Xavier’s Institute is empty. That means the mutants of X are already on the island.”

“Yeah, but that’s the problem, though. Krakoa is a floating _island_. The only thing keeping me in check right now is knowing I have solid ground under my feet. I’m awful with planes and not so great in boats at the best of times. Krakoa is just one huge honkin’ _boat_. What if I set foot on there and lose complete control?”

Shatterstar lapsed into silence again. “I had not considered that,” he said at last.

“I have. It’s all that’s been on my mind lately.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I don’t want you worrying about me and I know that you are.”

‘Star reached out and touched his free hand and could feel it trembling; not from nerves, but from the power he was desperately throttling back. “I would be a sorry boyfriend if I was not concerned. I love you, Julio.”

That roused a small smile to his scruffy features. “I love you too, babe. I would have probably lost my shit by now if you weren’t with me.”

‘Star’s larger size allowed him to easily lean across the surface of the bar and kiss him. When they parted, he grabbed the back of his partner’s head and brought their foreheads together. His mismatched eyes caught Rictor’s rheumy, sorrow-filled brown ones and held them. “We will get through this. I know when you’re stressed you try to cope with things on your own. Please don’t shut me out this time.”

Ric reached up and ran his hand through ‘Star’s short red hair. “I won’t. I promise.”

That promise lasted for exactly three days.


	3. Stress Fracture

Julio and Shatterstar fell into a strange limbo for the next three days.

The Shakedown was now a crime scene and Ric couldn’t enter the premises to evaluate if there was anything salvageable. It didn’t matter. He already knew through his cursory walk-through that the fire had done its job. The nightclub was a lost cause.

Ric began entertaining the thought that he was, too.

He lingered around their Manor Crossing basement apartment like a ghost, sleeping too much and eating too little while ‘Star ran errands and performed repairs to the units. The previous owner had run the place as a slum tenancy and ‘Star had completely renovated the three-story building when he’d bought it. After the attack by Gringrave and the Death Sponsors, he was almost back to Square One; rebuilding sections of the building out-of-pocket. As he had remarked to Rictor one evening, his insurance didn’t cover damage “from Mojoverse vehjkas”.

That opened the door to a discussion about Gringrave. It was a touchy subject for Shatterstar, but he was honest about his relationship with the executioner who had been almost twice his age and had used him to boost their popularity as a fighting team. Among other things. “Mojo also had feeds devoted to our private couplings. It gives me no pleasure to know, in hindsight, that I was little better than a porn star.”

Rictor glowered at him. “I remember when we first went out clubbing you told me that you were a virgin. How’d you put it? You didn’t even know about ever having such ‘stirrings’?” He rolled his eyes.

‘Star lapsed into pensive silence as was so common for him these days. “I wasn’t lying to you,” he finally said. “I didn’t remember Gringrave until Arize rebooted me on Mojoworld after that terrible Hell on Earth War*. I don’t know how or when my memories were altered. It’s entirely possible the Cadre’s elsewhen transport to Earth did damage. The device was a crude prototype. Or maybe I was somehow hollowed by Mojo before I came to earth. I don’t _know_ , Julio.”

“You should’ve told me about her right after you got your memories _back_.” His words came out harder than intended and the Mojoworlder slouched a little in his seat and stared mutely at the television. A muscle along his jawline tightened.

“But I know why you didn’t,” Ric said by way of apology. When he got no response, he decided to veer away from the touchy subject by saying, “I remember that nothing was private in Mojoworld.” He was referring to the four months he was trapped on that hellhole. “I swear, they even broadcast the times I took a dump.”

A noncommittal sound came from ‘Star. “The cameras never stopped. Never. In retrospect it’s amazing I’m sane.”

Rictor flashed him a slanted smile. “Weee-e-ll...”

“Damage was done,” the redhead admitted.

“Joking. I’m joking.” They were sitting on the sofa and Ric roughly shouldered him.

“I’m not.”

He was staring at the TV with half-lidded eyes and Julio looked at his profile. ‘Star looked tired and worn out. “Hey. When’s the last time you slept?”

There was a pause, then, “I caught an hour this afternoon.”

“When was that? I was here all day, except...” Ric blinked. “I took a bath to clear my head. Why are you sneaking naps? Didn’t you get any sleep last night?”

“No.”

“I told you to stop worrying, okay? It’s creepy as hell when you stare at me all night long.”

‘Star took note of the clipped tone his partner was using and measured his response carefully. “I’m not staying awake out of my concern for you. I can’t sleep because you make the bed shake.”

Ric grimaced. Ever since his ordeals on Horus IV, ‘Star was now a notoriously light sleeper and prone to nightmares. Even for a guy with a healing factor, he was tipping dangerously into insomniac territory. “All night long?”

“Yes. It worsens depending on what level of sleep you fall into.”

“How long’s this been going on?”

“Since the Shakedown burned down.”

Ric twisted around to stare at him. “You haven’t slept in three days? Why the hell didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I knew that it would draw us into this discussion,” he said, gesturing between them. “And I wanted to avoid it. I was hoping that you would get better...”

“But I’m not,” Ric said. Sometimes he had the shakes so bad, he had to use both hands to hold a glass of water. Earth’s access energy was always on the peripheral of his mind these days, held back by a steadily deteriorating dam. It made sense that his faltering control slipped whenever he fell asleep. “’Star-”

“I know what you’re going to say and the answer is no. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“Look, I’ll go my apartment for one night, okay? One. Just long enough for you to catch up on your sleep and then I’ll come back. This shit can’t go on forever. I’ll get my control back, eventually. I always do. Until then, there’s no reason why we both have to suffer.”

“I am worried that if you go back to that apartment, you won’t want to leave it. You barely leave this one anymore.”

“Look, why don’t-”

“No.”

“’Star, just listen-”

_“No.”_

“I’m not leaving, _cabrón!_ I was just gonna suggest you lay down here!” Ric managed to say. He got up off the sofa and gestured to it. “Sleep.”

“Now?” It was only eight o’clock in the evening. “This is outside of my usual routine and-”

Cursing, Rictor jumped up and dove for the Mojoworlder’s feet and hauled them up and around until ‘Star was lying prone on the sofa. He pointed down at him with a rigid finger and said in a rough voice: “Now you listen to me, Benjamin Gaveedra Seven. You’re gonna stay _right there_ until you go to sleep. You hear me? I don’t wanna see you budge from that damn spot or you’re gonna get it!” He punctuated the statement by slapping a fist into his open palm, making a small concussive sound as his powers flared.

‘Star slowly blinked as he processed this sudden chain of events. “I am oddly turned on right now.”

Ric let out the breath he had unconsciously been holding in as a startled laugh. To his knowledge, he was the only person on earth who could successfully order Shatterstar to do anything. It was a leftover from their teenaged days and had become a kink that the warrior still had to this day. Lord knows ‘Star could kill him a hundred ways to Sunday if he wanted to, so Julio never really understood how he could be perceived as the dominate one or why it aroused ‘Star every time Ric actually stepped up to the plate. “What’dya want me to do? Spank you?”

A crooked smile crossed the redhead’s handsome face. “Well, you do owe me for that one lapse...”

‘Star had remarkable self-control, but there had been that one time when he’d let his super-human strength slip its reins. Rictor’s left ass cheek had looked like Wilson from Castaway for days.

“Thanks for reminding me,” Ric said and pounced.

Later, his hair a twisted tangle and only wearing his socks, Ric was seated in the recliner with his Mexican Flag blanket wrapped around his shoulders. ‘Star was sleeping on the sofa with the coverlet from their bed thrown over him. It was a rare sight, one that the Mexican usually liked to take advantage of, but his eyes were drawn to a new crack in the wall that hadn’t been there a half-hour earlier.

 _Christ, there’s something else ‘Star’s gonna have to fix,_ he thought morosely. He thought that he’d had a grip on his powers, but something had slipped. He got up and ran his finger along the line. It started from the floor and jig jagged all the way up to the ceiling. When he realized which side of the apartment that was on, all the spit in his mouth dried up.

He had cracked a foundation wall. Even he knew enough about building codes to recognize that a building inspector from the city could step in and shut the place down until it was fixed.

He got dressed and inspected the rest of the apartment. He found another stress fracture in ‘Star’s office. A huge armoire had been pressed up in front of it and Ric realized that it hadn’t been there a week ago. Neither had the crack, presumably. The Mojoworlder had done that to hide it.

From _him._

“Ah, shit.” He grabbed ‘Star’s building keys and left the apartment and began to inspect the storage units. The ones in the center of the building were fine but he found damage in the far corner unit. There was one crack that was about a quarter an inch thick. Everything had been moved out of the room. From the looks of things, Shatterstar had bought a pallet of cinderblocks, bags of instant cement and several hydraulic joists in preparation for repairs. He seemed to know what he was doing because it looked like the other wall had already been fixed, quite recently in fact. If it wasn’t for the different colors of the cement Ric wouldn’t have clued into the difference, not unless he had been specifically looking for it.

 _He’s quietly repairing damage I’m causing_ , he thought, looking down at the floor. Ground water was dribbling through the crack and ‘Star had dug a hole in the concrete floor to rig up a sump pump with a hose to divert the water outside of the building. When it suddenly kicked on, he almost jumped.

He let himself back in the apartment and his shaking hands dropped the set of keys, making a racket. ‘Star didn’t even stir and that wasn’t like him. Ric stood in the doorway for a very long time, watching him sleep with troubled eyes. _Now I know why he’s so tapped out. He’s not just rebuilding the place because of that bitch Gringrave and her cronies. He’s chasing down all the shit I’m doing, too._

He could feel the earth trying to resonate with his despair. He clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut and desperately grappled with that energy to will it away. By the time he managed to submerge it deep down into the mantle, he was left shaking and drenched in sweat.

On trembling legs, he walked over to the sofa and planted a feather-light kiss on the redhead’s temple.

 _I can’t live here anymore,_ he thought sadly.

* * *

Shatterstar jerked awake with a start.

He blinked at the television which was still on, but set on mute. It was playing Impractical Jokers, a show that Ric enjoyed but ‘Star couldn’t seem to grasp that type of humor. The light over the sink lit the kitchen. He twisted around to squint at the clock on the microwave. It was almost one in the morning.

With the instincts of a warrior who had endured over a thousand battles, he immediately thought: _Something’s wrong. I don’t know what, but something is different._

He quickly got dressed and went into the bedroom, turning on the light. The bed was empty and the drawers containing Rictor’s belongings were cleaned out. The closet had several new empty hangers.

Knowing what that meant, ‘Star released a strangled snarl and lashed out with a fist, burying it through the faux wood of the door. A part of him had known this was going to be the inevitable outcome. He wasn’t even particularly surprised, but he _was_ angry.

He grumbled under his breath and pulled out his cell phone. He hated texting at the best of times but given his current mindset, reasoned it might be a safer way to go. He tapped out; _WHAT THE FUCK RIC?_ and hit “Send” so hard he cracked the brittle screen.

Almost as if the other party had been expecting it, he immediately got: **_Message read._**

There was a pause and then a brief text came back: _Its for the best_

It spoke of ‘Star’s mood that he simply held down the _???????????_ key for a few seconds before sending it. When it came to this manner of communication he had very little patience.

**_Message read._ **

No response followed.

“Dlo ma sch’amik hez!” he spat down at the tiny screen. When he called Ric’s number, it went straight to voicemail. He never even bothered to leave a message and crunched the fragile device to bits in one large fist.

Less than ten minutes later he was trying to get into Ric’s apartment, but his key wouldn’t work in the slot. The locks were already changed. The Mexican had gotten a head start and used his time well. Needless to say, Shatterstar was furious when he walked around to the vacant lot and approached the patio doors to Ric’s ground floor apartment. As he expected, the other man was standing on the other side of the glass waiting for him.

“At least in Mexico I got a letter,” ‘Star said, his voice dripping with venom. “You’re breaking your promise.”

Ric’s eyes were downcast. “I know. I’m sorry,” came his muffled voice from the other side of the glass.

“I don’t want your useless apologies. I want an explanation!”

“’Star... Look, I saw the damage I was causing to Manor Crossing. I saw all the work you’re doing in the storage unit. If I continue to stay there, the city will condemn the building and you and your tenants will be out in the street. You sank everything you have into that place and I’m not gonna be the one who brings it down.”

“I’m not leaving you alone. I’ll move in with you.”

“You can’t. You’re the only defense that building’s got. Don’t let what happened to the Shakedown happen there.”

“Then let’s go to Krakoa-”

“I can’t. I told you why. This is just... It-It’s...” He swallowed and grimaced. “Let’s treat this as a-another break, okay?”

‘Star glared at him. “You and your fekting breaks. They always end in disaster.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’m all out of ideas.”

“I’m not. _Let me in!”_ His voice carried in the courtyard and apartment lights were beginning to turn on.

Ric laid his hand on the other side of the surface. The glass started vibrating. “Star, you need to calm down. I’m not going anywhere. We can talk tomor-”

A window in the apartment above Rictor’s slid open and a male voice shouted down: “Hey lovebirds! You two wanna wrap it up? It’s almost one-thirty in the fuckin’ mornin’! Some of us have to work for a living!”

 _“Ejai’kte mei foojkies, Mojofekt’ky!”_ ‘Star roared back, his voice echoing in the empty lot.

“Ah, Christ,” Ric muttered, thumping his forehead on the glass. He knew what was coming.

More lights from other units began turning on. Voices began rising. It wasn’t long before red and blue lights could be seen down the street.

“Gav, get out of here. _¡Vete!”_

“No! You’re coming with me!”

There was a _Whoop!_ of a siren and a spotlight began running over the surface of the adjacent building, moving in their direction. ‘Star glanced in the direction of where the police were coming from and extended all four blades from his gauntlets. _SHAK!_

Given the warrior’s current mindset, Rictor feared that he was going to see a couple of dead cops pretty damn soon. He panicked and shouted, “You need to fuck off, pendejo. _Right now!”_ He immediately regretted the words, but it was too late to take them back.

‘Star cast him an incredulous, disbelieving look. “If I go I will _not_ come back,” he said between clenched teeth. “I am _done_ with your-your _bullshit.”_ The eye contact lingered for a precious few seconds before Ric dropped his eyes, flushing in shame. When he glanced up, the Mojoworlder was gone, probably running to a place where he could safely teleport back to Manor Crossing.

Ric pulled the curtains of the patio doors closed just before the spotlight singled out his apartment. It moved away, came back again and then turned off. He expected a knock to his apartment, but it never came. He wouldn’t have been able to respond anyway. By that point he was locked into a battle of wills with the earth beneath his feet. For an uncomfortable amount of time, it seemed like he was doomed to lose this round. He was too upset to marshal his full focus.

In the end, he was left begging, “I’ve just lost everything. Don’t do this to me. Not here. Not now. I don’t want to kill anybody. Don’t make me a killer. Please. _Please!_ Back off!”

That oppressive pressure of tectonic plates and swollen lava abated from the peripheral of his consciousness. He dropped to his knees and curled into a shivering ball. The palms of both hands were throbbing. His fingernails had left crescent-shaped wounds. He was drenched with sweat.

Scared, he cast a plaintive glance at the balcony doors. He knew with absolute certainty he couldn’t do this alone. When Shatterstar returned, Rictor vowed he would go with him.

‘Star didn’t come back.

But several days later, • **╣** **Å** **╠•** did.

____________________________________________________________________________  
_

*X-Factor #259 (2013)


End file.
